niggers aren't crowding him any. It's a little different down
In Louisiana, where I come from, maybe, but not here,
You'll grant now, Mr. Burden "—he addressed Mr. Burden
pleasantly and patiently, as though explaining something
the course of a disease, perhaps, or the meaning of a symp-
tom, as though making an effort for the simple and non-tech-
nical description—"you'll grant there's a difference between
this sort of thing "—and he tapped the paper, which he held
in one hand, with the stem of his pipe—"and the meaning
of our"—he paused slightly, grinning again—"endeavours.
Professor Ball, who had been standing by the wall, a little
aloof, leaned his tall, emaciated body forward, and thrust out
a bandaged forefinger. " A difference," he said croakingly—
"the difference between justice and injustice, darkness and
the holy light."
"That's telling 'em, Professor," Mr. Christian exclaimed.
" I just had it on the tip of my tongue."
Doctor MacDonald was waiting for them to finish. He
was standing very straight, but casually, for his erectness
always had about it a certain impression of repose, and con-
fidence, as well. His long arms hung loosely, the wrists show-
ing out of the too-short sleeves. He looked from Professor
Ball to Mr. Christian and back again, with a bearing of
courtesy and tolerance, and waited to be sure that they had
finished speaking. Mr, Christian again sank back upon him-
self, paying no attention, apparently, to what was going on
around him. Then Doctor MacDonald said, speaking very
deliberately: " You all know I said when you elected me that
I'd try not to get you into any more trouble than necessary.
Well, we've been in plenty of trouble. Over half a year now.
We all got into it together, and we don't know how much
good it's done." His voice moved along casually and con-
versationally, but it was distinct even at the other end of
the room. He paused. Then he continued, his voice gam-
ing a certain sharpness; **But it hasn't done enough good*
I know that. You know it* This fall the companies